Tartuffe
By
Moli&#xe8;re
Act IV:
Scenes 1-3

(To Mariane)Here is the contract that shall make you happy,My dear. You know already what it means.

MARIANE (on her knees before Orgon)Father, I beg you, in the name of HeavenThat knows my grief, and by whate'er can move you,Relax a little your paternal rights,And free my love from this obedience!Oh, do not make me, by your harsh command,Complain to Heaven you ever were my father;Do not make wretched this poor life you gave me.If, crossing that fond hope which I had formed,You'll not permit me to belong to oneWhom I have dared to love, at least, I beg youUpon my knees, oh, save me from the tormentOf being possessed by one whom I abhor!And do not drive me to some desperate actBy exercising all your rights upon me.

MARIANEI am not jealous of your love for him;Display it freely; give him your estate,And if that's not enough, add all of mine;I willingly agree, and give it up,If only you'll not give him me, your daughter;Oh, rather let a convent's rigid ruleWear out the wretched days that Heaven allots me.

ORGONThese girls are ninnies! — always turning nunsWhen fathers thwart their silly love-affairs.Get on your feet! The more you hate to have him,The more 'twill help you earn your soul's salvation.So, mortify your senses by this marriage,And don't vex me about it any more.

DORINEBut what . . . ?

ORGONYou hold your tongue, before your betters.Don't dare to say a single word, I tell you.

CLEANTEIf you will let me answer, and advise . . .

ORGONBrother, I value your advice most highly;'Tis well thought out; no better can be had;But you'll allow me — not to follow it.

ELMIRE (to her husband)I can't find words to cope with such a case;Your blindness makes me quite astounded at you.You are bewitched with him, to disbelieveThe things we tell you happened here to-day.

ORGONI am your humble servant, and can seeThings, when they're plain as noses on folks' faces,I know you're partial to my rascal son,And didn't dare to disavow the trickHe tried to play on this poor man; besides,You were too calm, to be believed; if thatHad happened, you'd have been far more disturbed.

ELMIREAnd must our honour always rush to armsAt the mere mention of illicit love?Or can we answer no attack upon itExcept with blazing eyes and lips of scorn?For my part, I just laugh away such nonsense;I've no desire to make a loud to-do.Our virtue should, I think, be gentle-natured;Nor can I quite approve those savage prudesWhose honour arms itself with teeth and clawsTo tear men's eyes out at the slightest word.Heaven preserve me from that kind of honour!I like my virtue not to be a vixen,And I believe a quiet cold rebuffNo less effective to repulse a lover.

ORGONI know . . . and you can't throw me off the scent.

ELMIREOnce more, I am astounded at your weakness;I wonder what your unbelief would answer,If I should let you see we've told the truth?

ORGONSee it?

ELMIREYes.

ORGONNonsense.

ELMIRECome! If I should findA way to make you see it clear as day?

ORGONAll rubbish.

ELMIREWhat a man! But answer me.I'm not proposing now that you believe us;But let's suppose that here, from proper hiding,You should be made to see and hear all plainly;What would you say then, to your man of virtue?

ORGONWhy, then, I'd say . . . say nothing. It can't be.

ELMIREYour error has endured too long already,And quite too long you've branded me a liar.I must at once, for my own satisfaction,Make you a witness of the things we've told you.

ORGONAmen! I take you at your word. We'll seeWhat tricks you have, and how you'll keep your promise.